


You Have Me

by ajeepandleather



Category: Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types
Genre: Blood and Injury, First Kiss, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Prompt Fill, Sharing a Bed
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-17
Updated: 2020-01-17
Packaged: 2021-02-27 11:00:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,082
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22285993
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ajeepandleather/pseuds/ajeepandleather
Summary: Geralt hurts himself, Jaskier is there to help. Kissing happens. You should really just read it.
Relationships: Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion
Comments: 51
Kudos: 1003





	You Have Me

**Author's Note:**

> Not beta read so all mistakes are my own!

“Geralt? Geralt!” Something loosens in Geralt’s chest when he hears the bard, ensuring he’s alive and well enough to shout and move around the decrepit forest looking for him. He looks at the drowner in front of him, good hand still holding his sword aloft in case the monster has the audacity to still be alive after the hell it put him through. 

“There you are, you big oaf. Would it have caused you such pains as to give a simple ‘here’ to help me find you? I mean, really, I’ve been wandering the damned forest for ag- Geralt, you’re bleeding.”

He grunts, looking down at his arm where the drowner had managed to slash him against a rock in the lake. The cut was deep and it throbbed if he wasn’t too purposeful in ignoring it and, as the bard had helpfully noted, bleedly rather heavily. 

“It’s dead right? Like, dead dead?” Jaskier asks, stepping forward timidly. 

“It’s dead,” Geralt confirms, the corpse having stilled completely. 

“Well, let’s get you back to the tavern. I picked up some gauze and ointments just in case while you were out this morning,” Jaskier informs him as he takes Geralt’s sword right from his hands and pulls out a rag to clean it of the drowner slime and blood. The witcher has a nagging feeling that he should be annoyed by this, or maybe should have put up a fight for the sword but he’s too tired to really look into it. 

Jaskier hums a new tune as they walk back through the forest to where Geralt left Roach. Geralt climbs into the saddle and only winces for a moment when it tugs on the open wound but it prompts Jaskier to shove at the witcher’s hip to push him into the correct position. 

“And to think so many fair maidens could only wish to be this close the White Wolf’s lovely arse,” Jaskier teases with a sly smile only earning him an eye roll from the wolf himself. The rest of the way back to the tavern Jaskier recounts his various exploits around the continent while not with Geralt, of the women (and even a few men) who wonder of the tales of how built the witcher really is and how Jaskier has never been too shy to share. This gets him a kick to the ribs that he dodges with a laugh. 

“Good sir, could you bring a bucket of clean water to the witcher’s room?” Jaskier calls to the innkeeper as they come inside, gesturing to Geralt’s arm. The man nods and waves them up to the room saying he will be up shortly. 

“Now, you get yourself comfortable while I grab the supplies,” the bard insists, placing a guiding hand on Geralt’s good arm. It’s a gentle grip, only meant to assist but Geralt shakes him off like a guard dragging him to the gallows. Jaskier just sighs and darts to his side of the room to grab his things.

“I’m fine,” he insists, sitting down on his bed and slowly tugging at the straps and buckles of his armour. 

“Oh, yes, the blood really sells it,” Jaskier snips lightly, moving in close to take over the buckle removal. Thin, skilled fingers make quick work while pushing away Geralt’s fumbling attempts. Jaskier pulls the jerkin over Geralt’s head and manages to cause not even a twinge of pain in his injured arm while he does it. 

“Water, sir,” the innkeeper says, knocking before entering to room. Jaskier thanks him and takes the bucket to Geralt’s bedside with a new, clean rag in hand. 

“Now, sit back and let me do my work,” Jaskier says, pushing Geralt back against the headboard with a hand to the witcher’s chest. Geralt can’t tell you why he obeys without so much as a grunt of protest but then again, he’s not likely to even tell you things he does know and understand. 

Jaskier takes his time gently patting at the bloody skin, rinsing out the cloth when it becomes too bloody to continue its job. He dabs at the skin around the wound and Geralt watches as he works, humming quietly to himself because when is he ever silent?

“I’m fully capable of tending to my own wounds,” Geralt insists when Jaskier gets up and grabs the ointment and bandages. 

Jaskier’s back is to him so Geralt watches the man move unabashedly. He had a trim waist under his doublet, and his legs had grown stronger with the years of travelling with Geralt and his arms were corded with new muscles that he had seen while they washed in various rivers. He had grown up as well, no longer as soft around the edges with youth but his jaw had sharpened and cheekbones more prominent. 

“I know you are, Geralt, you are not incompetent,” Jaskier tells him, turning back to the bed with a mortar and pestle in one hand and ointment and bandages in the other but his eyes did not meet the witcher’s. “I just don’t believe you should have to do everything on your own.”

Their eyes meet just as Jaskier drops to his knees at Geralt’s bedside, the bard’s gaze unwavering and quiet. Geralt realizes he must be waiting for something. 

“Thank you, Jaskier.” Geralt feels his slow beating heart quicken from where it’s lodged so far up his throat as the bard smiles. 

Jaskier finishes his work in near silence, hands trembling but only just so. If Geralt’s senses were any less he might have missed it but he is who he is and for once he’s thankful. He can feel the small tremble, can hear the hard thump of Jaskier’s quickened heartbeat and smell the heady scent of Jaskier’s contentment. 

The bard finishes with a flourish and looks up to Geralt with a proud smile and Geralt can return it with nothing less than a smile of his own. It’s then that he sees something he simply can’t ignore, a soft blush that blooms over Jaskier’s sharpened cheekbones and eventually dusts the very tips of his ears. Jaskier looks away but the smile remains as he goes to stand but Geralt moves faster. 

“Stay?” Geralt asks, one of his large hands grasping Jaskier’s. The bard’s eyes widen but he nods and Geralt squeezes the hand in his hold and makes to make room for Jaskier on the bed. 

“Wait!” Geralt freezes, not knowing what’s wrong but wanting to fix it immediately. “You’re going to hurt your arm,” he explains, pointing to how Geralt was about to use his bad arm to leverage himself. “I don’t want you bloodying my handiwork,” Jaskier teases. 

“Is that your only concern, bard?” Geralt asks with a raised eyebrow. 

“Don’t flatter yourself, witcher,” Jaskier throws back, looking over the bed like it was some little puzzle he was trying to solve. After a moment, Jaskier’s eyes meet his own once more and there’s a lot to read there - determination, affection, concern, and just a touch of trepidation. 

“What ever you may be hesitating to do, just do it, Jaskier.” Geralt tells him, voice steady and mellow like how he talks to Roach after a scare. Jaskier nods and then slowly sits on the edge of the bed, removing his hand from Geralt’s grip to unlace his shoes. Geralt watches as the shoes are tossed aside and his trousers are pulled off his long legs, the doublet following swiftly after to leave the bard in only his undergarments. 

He looks over his shoulder to Geralt and the witcher merely raises his eyebrows as he waits. Jaskier takes a deep breath and lays himself back, rolling on to his side to slot himself against Geralt with one hand tucked under his head and the other pressed close to his own chest. Geralt waits for the shifting and readjusting that always comes with Jaskier attempting to make himself comfortable but after long minutes he realizes it won’t come. 

“Now, who is the ridiculous one,” Geralt huffs, using his good arm to tug the bard in closer to his body, ignoring the indignant yelp that comes with it. He pushes and tugs at Jaskier as he sees fit, only mildly surprised with how pliant the man goes as it continues. Once Jaskier is tucked up flush to Geralt’s side, one arm over his abdomen, and Jaskier’s head pillowed on his bicep he lets out a long breath and melts back into the mattress. 

“I worry about you,” Jaskier whispers into the quiet of the night around them. “You throw yourself at monsters and almost always walk away bloody.”

“I am still alive-”

“But what if one day you aren’t?” Jaskier interrupts, heart rate increasing causing Geralt to grab for his hand once more and rub a thumb over his knuckles. 

“Everyone dies, death will not make an exception for me,” Geralt says as gently as he can manage but Jaskier is still tense and he does not know how to relieve it. 

“I know that but- ugh, fine. But you come back and you’re bloody and then you insist you have to take care of yourself but you don’t.”

“I have done this for decades-”

“That doesn’t matter!” Jaskier cries out, pushing up onto his elbow and leaning over the witcher with a hand on his bare chest. “You aren’t alone anymore, Geralt. You don’t have to stitch yourself back together in a silent room of a tavern inn and go to bed dirty because you can’t move well enough to bathe. You don’t have to wince with everything movement to get yourself a glass of water and you don’t have to shoulder the burden by yourself,” Jaskier insists, growing a little more breathless with every word. 

“I- I never-” Geralt is not often at a loss for words, often instead opting for no words at all but when faced with this bare and vulnerable outburst from someone he considers his closest friend he can’t just let it slip by without a response. But the words fail him when he needs them most. 

“You are not alone, Geralt,” Jaskier repeats, softer this time with eyes that plead with the witcher to understand something Jaskier simply cannot risk saying. You have me.

Geralt’s words may fail him, but actions may not. He reaches up, paying no mind to the twinge of pain that rings through his injured arm, and brushes a stray curl from Jaksier’s forehead. He brushes his fingers down the bard’s jaw and smiles as Jaskier’s eyes flutter shut. He pushes his fingers back through the bard’s hair, curling his fingers through the shorter strands and tugs the man down. 

Lips meet like an inevitability. 

He catches Jaskier’s bottom lip between his own and sinks into the sigh that the man above him releases. Lips press and pull, catching against the scruff from days on the road. Pulling apart felt like an impossible task but he pulls Jaskier down to press their foreheads together. 

“I have you,” Jaskier pushes down into his space and steals a kiss, deep and filthy and Geralt has to use all his inner strength to pull away. “I-” another push of lips cutting him off as Jaskier swings his leg over Geralt’s hips and gives a push of a whole new magnitude. “Fuck,” Geralt gasps. 

“That’s a good idea, let’s get on that,” Jaskier pants back, diving back in and rolling his hips in a way that makes Geralt’s eyes roll back. 

“Jaskier, I- I have to-” Jaskier pays him almost no mind as he continues to plunge his tongue deep into Geralt’s mouth, lighting the witcher up from the inside out until he feels the fire rolling through his stomach. “Jaskier, please-”

“Mmm,” Jaskier hums, a smile pressed against Geralt’s mouth. 

“Jaskier,” Geralt growls, clutching the sides of the man’s head to push him back, but still close enough to feel his warm breath against his skin. “You always complain I never converse with you and yet when I have something to say you make it impossible,” he huffs, looking into the cerulean eyes above him. 

“Oh, I’m sorry,” Jaskier replies, looking mildly cowed but the flush is still high on his cheeks and Geralt doesn’t smell any distress. Good, he thinks, they do not need any more miscommunication. 

“I wanted to say, I have you,” Geralt repeats, the gaze between them unbreakable in this moment, “And you have me.”

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first ever Witcher fic!! I hope you enjoyed it, shoot me some love in the comments and check me out on tumblr at [@a-pie-with-no-filling](https://a-pie-with-no-filling.tumblr.com/) :)


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